


Coffee Shops and Other Liminal Spaces

by Cyberna, sgt_fuckybarnes



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Background Relationships, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky's a nerd, Dorks in Love, Eventual Smut, Gay Bucky Barnes, It's A Coffee Shop AU, M/M, Mutual Pining, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers: The Bisexual America Deserves, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, but what else is new, they're both pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-15 07:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10552430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberna/pseuds/Cyberna, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgt_fuckybarnes/pseuds/sgt_fuckybarnes
Summary: Steve works in a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop that just so happens to be hiring the day that Bucky Barnes stops by.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a shinkyclinks coffee shop au about dorks falling in love. What else is there to say?

“Goddammit,” Steve mumbled, hitting the broken coffee machine for the third time that morning. This hole-in-the-wall coffee shop he worked mornings in never seemed to function properly. Aside from the broken coffee maker, the store also sold “fresh-baked” (stale) cookies and some crumbly pastries, and for whatever reason, management never saw any of this as a problem. After all, the store had somehow managed to gather a few loyal customers over the years, despite the fact that their coffee maker was never functioning and their baked goods tasted like they’d been sitting behind a dumpster for the past week. 

This entire store had to be a health violation, and Steve couldn’t understand how they’d managed to stay in business as long as they had. Then again, the store was owned by Mister Silver-Tongue himself. The workers all called him “Loki”, though no one knew his real name. He really did live up to the title of the mischievous god. Charming and quick-witted, he had probably talked his way out of every health inspection for the past four years. 

As Steve was busy smacking the coffee machine until it finally stuttered to a start, someone nudged him from behind. He glanced over his shoulder to see his co-worker Wanda tying on one of the work aprons.

“Morning, Steve,” she said pleasantly, “Coffee maker giving you trouble again?”

“What gave it away?” Steve mumbled in response, making sure that the maker was now functioning.

Wanda gave a small chuckle. “That things hates you, you know.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“I swear, the thing’s going to take over the world some day…” Wanda said disapprovingly. “Tony calls it Ultron.”

Steve raised an eyebrow but decided not to question it. Maybe it was some kind of inside joke. 

As the two were conversing, Loki passed the outside of the store, quickly taping a sheet of ugly neon-yellow paper to the outside window–A now-hiring sign. Great. After stepping back to make sure the sign was not crooked, Loki crossed the threshold of the shop, settling off the obnoxious chiming bells meant to alert them of an arriving customer. 

Wanda glanced up from where she was quickly rinsing the insides of the coffee mugs. “Morning, boss,” she greeted in the same tone she had for Steve previously.   
Loki only grunted in response, immediately locking eyes with Steve instead. “You. You’re in charge of the applicants.”

“Okay-?” He answered, as if he weren’t already expecting the responsibility being passed to him in the first place. 

With that, Loki and his greasy black hair exited the building, sounding the obnoxious bell once again. 

“After Natasha quit, Loki’s been looking for someone to replace her,” Wanda said as soon as he had disappeared around the corner.

“Maybe he could find someone to take the job if he addressed the sexual harassment complaint she left over.” Steve grumbled.

Wanda couldn’t bring herself to laugh. “We are just lucky no one got hurt.” From the tone in Wanda’s voice, Steve could tell she wasn’t worried about Natasha. It was hard to worry about Natasha. Natasha was fully capable of handling herself. 

Just last month she’d broken a poor cashier’s nose with her elbow when he’d tried to tickle her from behind–hadn’t apologized afterwards, either. 

Steve glanced up at the tacky neon yellow flyer, trying to read it through the glass door. With his poor eyesight (he should really consider getting glasses), reading it backward was no different than forward, at that distance. 

The sign was definitely handmade, judging by Loki’s obvious handwriting in–was it pencil? How professional. Steve would have properly wrinkled his nose at it if it weren’t for the fact that someone was now reading it from the outside of the store. 

And not just a regular old someone, either. No. It was creepy-black-coffee-guy. 

Creepy-black-coffee-guy had been coming into their humble shop once a day for the past few weeks, each time ordering a large black coffee under a different, obviously fake name. He would pick the table closest to the entrance, drink his coffee as fast as possible, and then take off as quick as he came–like he was being followed. Creepy. 

Wanda seemed to take notice of him the same moment Steve did and made a face. “I’ll let you handle this,” she said as she quickly backed away from the counter and retreated into the break room. 

Steve didn’t mind him. “Creepy-black-coffee-guy”, as the other workers had nicknamed him, minded his own business after he got his order each morning, cleaned up after himself when he left, and tipped generously. Steve would rather have a million creepy-black-coffee-guys than one more annoying-sunglasses-indoors-guy. Plus, it’s not like creepy-black-coffee-guy could be labeled as “unattractive”. Though he always wore a blank baseball cap, he had a friendly face and soft brown hair–not that Steve was looking closely or anything.

Creepy-black-coffee-guy ripped the flyer from it’s place on the door, holding it up to his face almost as if he was nearsighted. His head cocked as he was reading, reminding Steve of a confused bird. 

Creepy-black-coffee-guy pushed the door open, so hard the little bell smacked up against the wall and cracked. Steve had just enough time to thank whatever god was out there for the removal of the hell-bell before Creepy-black-coffee-guy rushed to the counter, slamming the flyer down on the counter.   
“Is this true?” the man asked, his voice rough and saturated with a heavy Brooklyn drawl. 

“The flyer? Yeah, we’re hiring... I take it you’re interested-?” Steve said, forcing a smile. 

The man nodded, cracking the first smile Steve had seen on his face. It suited him, Steve thought.

“Natalia told me that you were going to be hiring soon...I didn’t believe her, I thought she was just being…” he trailed off. The man pronounced Natalia in a nearly Russian accent.

“Natalia-? Oh, you know Natasha? Yeah, she just quit recently,” Steve said, trying to pursue the conversation. He was, possibly, going to be his new coworker, after all.   
The man jerked his head in a rough nod. 

“We grew up together,” he said, eyes glued to the counter. 

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but the other man interrupted him: “She’s always been like that, yes.” 

That startled a laugh out of Steve. “Uptight with a dry sense of humor, you mean?” He chuckled a bit. “So are you guys, like...” he made some kind of gesture to try to convey his point.

“Fucking?” the man replied, not missing a beat. 

Steve was starting to wonder if that dry humor thing was contagious. “Well, I was going to say ‘together’, but sure, let’s go with that...”  
“No.” Creepy-black-coffee-guy didn’t elaborate. 

Steve didn’t ask further. “Sorry. Just trying to make conversation.” He couldn’t decide if it was something personal or if he was being serious. “So, uh...do you have a name?” Steve asked. “A real name?” 

Creepy-black-coffee-guy cracked a smile. “Bucky.” he said. Bucky. What kind of a name was Bucky?

“Just Bucky?” Steve pressed, urging him to continue to speak.

“Bucky Barnes,” he replied, just one more syllable than he’d previously given. 

Steve returned his smile. “Bucky. Nice to finally put a name to the well-known face. I’m Steve. Steve Rogers.” 

“I know.” he said, half smiling. “You’re wearing a nametag.”

Steve chuckled embarrassedly at his statement. “Yeah. Yeah, I am. Excuse me for being polite,” he answered, but he was smiling. 

“Polite? Is that what they’re callin’ stupid nowadays?”

“Stupid?” Steve said, suddenly looking defensive. “I’m definitely not stupid. Everyone knows it’s a common courtesy to introduce yourself when someone else does so.” he finished, only just taking note of their size difference. Not only was Bucky two or three heads taller than him, but he was twice as thick, too, making Steve look almost like a toothpick. Who was he to be back-sassing?

Bucky blinked slowly. “Uh...right. Sorry.”

Steve’s expression didn’t change. “Yeah, well... I’m used to it I guess.”

“Used to people being dicks?”

“Callin’ me stupid and stuff,” he said, shrugging it off, “They tell me I think too much with my heart and not enough with my head. I get into a lot of fights and stuff, so I guess they’re not wrong. I just don't like bullies, that’s all. Can’t a guy do some good around here without being called a fool?”

Bucky stayed silent, but his eyes widened a fraction. “I...I didn’t mean to call you stupid. I was only jokin’.”

“No, no it’s fine. I know. I didn’t mean to get all defensive and stuff. Anyway, we’re not here to discuss life stories and stuff anyway. You’re here for a job interview, right? Well, the boss is getting kind of desperate for willing workers to work in this shithole, so if you’re sure you want to work here, I’m pretty sure he’ll let you join right in almost right away.”

Bucky nodded hesitantly, glancing back down at the flyer. “Yeah. Uh...I’m not real good at talkin’ to people, but I make the best coffee you’ll ever have,” he promised, a tiny smile tugging at his lips. 

Steve risked a glance at their half-broken coffee maker that was bubbling behind the counter. “I’ll hold you to that,” he answered, giving a weak smile in return. “I think it’s safe to say you’re hired, Mr. Barnes. I look forward to working with you.”


	2. 2

Bucky, as it turned out, made a mean cup of coffee. He also tended to make the customers very afraid, so he’d been charged with milling around in the back of the shop and taking inventory. Judging by the way he was humming under his breath, smiling to himself as he counted and recounted packs of sugar, Steve thought he was pretty happy with his new assignment. 

“Hey Barnes, are we out of syrup for the pumpkin lattes?” Steve demanded, turning his head from the line of obnoxious customers toward the back of the store in order to hopefully catch the brunet’s attention. 

It was “rush hour” as Wanda called it, when customers would stop in before work in order to get their cups of coffee in order to jumpstart their systems before they began their day. There was a line of three or four customers (which was a lot for the small shop in the first place), and on top of that, they all seemed to be in quite the hurry. Bucky and Steve could only dish out so many orders at once, and Steve was already nursing a major headache less than two hours into his shift.

With Bucky’s change in tasks, Steve was once again relying on the rickety coffee machine to do the work while he took the customer’s orders and Bucky took inventory in the back. He’d really have to get Barnes to teach him the proper way to make coffee. The customers apparently liked and prefered his recipe over the coffee maker’s. Who wouldn’t?

Still, Loki had ordered him to the back, and Steve was once again on his own with his archenemy–Ultron, the coffee maker. As always, like any good archenemy would do, Ultron must have loved to make rush hour all the more difficult for the man, as the damn machine broke down at least three times within the shift.   
Steve had to diffuse many uneasy situations and offer to give the angry customers a complimentary pastry as an apology for their disaster of a coffee maker. Yeah. Bucky definitely could not stay in the back any longer.

“Barnes!” Steve snapped. Bucky flinched violently, spinning around to look at him. 

“Da?” he replied, looking up from the shelves of syrup.

Steve indicated to the line of angry customers. “I’ll take inventory. I’ll deal with Loki too, just...just make coffee. Please?” 

And then the two were back to work with Bucky making coffee as quickly as he could and Steve taking inventory in the back as best as he could manage. The customers seemed satisfied with their coffee, and Steve was more than grateful for all of the help Bucky had provided. Bucky’s shoulders were hunched, his eyes down as he served the coffee, not bothering to call out names; He simply thrust the drinks into customers’ hands. While some of them were taken aback by this behavior, they were grateful for the swifter service than previously. 

After an hour or so, Steve finished taking inventory and rejoined his coworker in the front of the shop. The line had died down, and there was no longer a constant stream of customers entering and exiting the building.

“I’m going to sweep around the tables,” Steve said, picking up the broom from behind the counter. “You’re doing great. Thanks for all your help.”

Bucky nodded in response. “Yeah. Uh...no problem, Rogers. Just...next time, warn me before so many people show up, alright?” he asked. 

When Bucky looked up, Steve saw, not for the first time, the nervous edge in Bucky’s eyes, the same one that showed up whenever the shop got too crowded, anyone spoke too loud, or sneaked up on him. 

Steve nodded. “Of course, Buck. Whatever you need.” He turned his back to him just long enough to slide out from behind the counter and into the dining area, beginning to sweep up around the tables. He felt bad for not giving him more warning earlier, and causing him quite a bit of stress. Steve decided then that he’d make it up to him some how, perhaps later in the day. 

“Um... By the way, when you go on your break, shop rules say you’re allowed to take one of the baked goods as part of the working benefits, no charge... Most of the food here is stale, but between you and me, the bagels are pretty good,” Steve said, trying to loosen the tension. 

“I like those uh...the pastries with the jam in them. What are those called?” Bucky asked.

“The purple ones or the red ones?”

“Purple.”

“Plum tarts,” Steve said. He was rewarded with another brilliant half smile from Bucky, and a grateful nod of his head. 

“Do you like plums then?” Steve asked, not glancing up from where he was sweeping the dust from the floor into the dustpan. “Because believe it or not, Loki makes a killer plum cake on occasion. Have you ever tried it here? He hasn’t made it in a while, but he brought it in once for the employee appreciation breakfast one time. A few times since then, he had it sold in the shop.” 

“Cherries are better.” Bucky answered shortly. “But plums are the second best.” The way Bucky said it matter-of-factly, reminding Steve of a small child. 

“Cherries, or cherry flavor?” He said, “Because there’s a difference.”

“Real cherries, tâmpit. Cherry flavor is gross as shit.”

“That’s what I thought,” he chuckled, sliding the dust from the pan into the garbage can. “And I agree. As it is with most flavorings. Who ever decided that grape-flavored things tasted anything like grapes-? Grapes are good, but grape-flavored things...?” He stuck his tongue out to prove a point.

Bucky snorted, pressing one gloved hand against his mouth to muffle the laughter. “Grape flavor tastes like fever medicine.”

“Exactly! And I would know!” He said, glancing up from what he was doing long enough to make an incredulous face. 

“Why? Do you have a fever?”

“Not at the moment,” he answered, “But I do get sick a lot. I’ve had more than my fair share of medicine flavors for one lifetime.”

“I uh...lived in a hospital. For a month. I drank so much of that disgusting cherry and grape shit I still can’t get the taste off my tongue.”

He glanced in his direction again, “Why were you in the hospital for so long?”

“I had an amputation.” Bucky replied, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. 

Only now were Steve’s eyes drawn to Bucky’s hands, constantly gloved even when he was baking. “...Oh,” Steve only said, unsure of how else to respond.   
“Don’t do that. Don’t start...looking at me funny. Like I’m a kicked puppy or some shit.” 

Steve raised his hands defensively, “Sorry, sorry... That’s not what I was trying to say. I just didn’t know how else to respond... I didn’t mean to seem... y’know....”  
“I get it. I do. I sprung it on ya.” he said. “I’m alright now, though. You know that, right? Fancy prosthetic and everything. Good as new.”

“Yeah? Steve asked, rejoining him behind the counter, “Can I see...? Or is it something you prefer to keep to yourself?”  
Bucky took his gloves off, pressing his hands up against the table so Steve could see. The back of his right hand was calloused and tanned, just as he expected. The left was made of metal. 

Steve looked at the difference of his hands for a long moment. Then, “That’s amazing.” He took a mental note to attempt to draw the intricate pattern of plates and dips on his hand in his sketchbook later. 

Bucky blinked in surprise. “Not what people usually say.”

“No? How come? What do they say?”

“Apparently it freaks people out.” 

He frowned at that. “I can’t understand why. I think it’s fascinating.”

“Fascinating? Fun facts are fascinating. The arm is a little Terminator for my taste.”

“You think so?” Steve looked slightly disappointed upon hearing this, “I dunno. It’s just not something you see every day.”

“No, I wouldn’t imagine,” Bucky answered, managing a half-smile. “It’s not everyday you get on a first-name basis with a cyborg.”

Steve chuckled. “You’re right; You’re the first cyborg that’s ever introduced himself to me.”


End file.
